


it starts with perfected lattes...

by Raging_Nerd



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Resident Evil - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crack Treated Seriously, Didn't Know They Were Dating, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Game: Resident Evil 3 Nemesis, Gen, Swearing, Tyrell Patrick POV, Tyrell is that mom friend, Tyrell you dummy, in which carlos and jill are dating but tyrell doesn't know shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:08:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23577418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raging_Nerd/pseuds/Raging_Nerd
Summary: He cocked his head in the girl’s direction, watching her type away on her laptop as she took a sip from what might’ve been her third cup of coffee. “Who’s the missy?” he asked, wiping the mug that Carlos handed over to him.Carlos snorted, not turning to look at Tyrell as he stared at the mystery girl. “No one of importance, Ty,” Carlos remarked.---or, the one in which carlos is hanging out with a little lady too much, and tyrell wants to know what the hell is going on.
Relationships: Carlos Oliveira/Jill Valentine, Tyrell Patrick & Carlos Oliveira
Comments: 18
Kudos: 79





	it starts with perfected lattes...

**Author's Note:**

> I had way too much fun writing this XD
> 
> Please enjoy it!

Tyrell wasn’t stupid.

He’d be blind as shit to say he didn’t realize that Carlos liked the blond with short cropped hair that came in on mornings. He’d also be blind as shit to say he didn’t notice the way Carlos spent the extra minute perfecting her latte, drawing the goofiest image he could into the drink.

He made sure Carlos knew this when he walked past him in the morning, narrowing his eyes as he stopped him from resting the croissant tray on the table.

“Uh, Tyrell?” Carlos coaxed, lifting the tray to show emphasis on what he needed to do. Still, his best friend didn’t let up, gaze hardening as he poked his shoulder.

“Who's the missy you’ve been crushing on?” Tyrell asked, pushing his glasses up when Carlos rolled his eyes, pushing past the other man. 

“No one of importance, Ty,” Carlos remarked, ruffling his hair after putting the tray in its slot. Tyrell’s nose wrinkled in distaste, and he shoved him into the backroom to wash his hands again. He found it amusing that Carlos evaded the question even though he knew Tyrell knew the real deal. As stated before, Tyrell Patrick wasn’t stupid.

So he obviously pressed Carlos again.

He cocked his head in the girl’s direction, watching her type away on her laptop as she took a sip from what might’ve been her third cup of coffee. “Who’s the missy?” he asked, wiping the mug that Carlos handed over to him. 

Carlos snorted, not turning to look at Tyrell as he stared at the mystery girl. Tyrell narrowed his eyes when she looked up at him, frowning before her expression relaxed, an easy smile pulling at her lips as she shot Carlos a cheeky wave.

It wasn’t incorrect to say Tyrell wasn’t gawking, glaring at the mop headed man as he laughed, tossing him the hand towel before disappearing into the kitchen.

Still, Tyrell wasn’t satisfied, fixing the condiments display as Carlos' crush looked up at him. She frowned as he did, so he didn’t feel any remorse when he gave her the Look.

He didn’t ask Carlos about it again for the rest of the week, ignoring the cheesy flirting, perfected lattes, and smiles for the sake of his sanity. He did, however, get to ask the mystery girl about it when she walked into the coffee shop at ten past eight, blue eyes looking around fleetingly before resting on Tyrell.

“You,” he started, face void of expression as he looked down at her.

“Yeah, me,” she said just as dryly, and Tyrell fought off the urge to grin. “Where’s Carlos?”

“Sick,” he said curtly, relishing in the way she crossed her arms. “Can you order now?”

She glared at him, pulling off her bag to shuffle around for her wallet. “Fine. I’ll have a black coffee with a chocolate donut, please,” she said, and Tyrell raised an eyebrow. He took her rewards card anyway, tapping it and giving her her new total as she inserted her debit card. Nodding, he quickly wrote Jill into her digital receipt before printing it.

He took this opportunity to ask his question, thanking the heavens for the slow day.

“So what’s the deal with you and my mop for a best friend?” he asked, watching her eyes widen before she schooled her expression.

“Nothing of importance,” she replied, echoing Carlos’ words from a week ago. She met his gaze as he scowled, smiling to herself. “Now if you’d excuse me,” Jill said, taking her coffee from his hands along with the donut he slid towards her.

If only he could wipe that smug grin off her face.

Carlos came back a day later, meeting Tyrell’s angry complaints with as many sorrys he could muster. He couldn’t hold it against him though, dismissing him with tiny waves as the usual ladies filed into the shop. Tyrell rolled his eyes, wiping some mugs as one of them smiled brightly at his friend.

Idiots.

By the time afternoon rolled around, Jill was in her usual spot, typing madly on her laptop as she downed another cup of Carlos’ infamous lattes. Tyrell gave his co-worker a weird look when he slipped into the break room, only to reappear a second later.

Tyrell frowned when Carlos grabbed an apple fritter, placing it on a plate as he walked past him.

“What are you doing?” Tyrell asked eyes narrowed.

“Taking a break,” Carlos said, not glancing at his best friend again as he moved towards Jill’s table. She smiled up at him, moving over as he pulled a chair up beside her. Tyrell didn’t gawk this time. He’s learned better.

Instead? Tyrell Patrick analyzed.

Carlos Oliveira never took breaks. Tyrell’s known him since freshman year, and to say Carlos was a go-getter was an understatement. The bastard was a fucking tank. He never stopped. Ever. When Mikhail gave the shop over to them, it was Carlos who actually cared about doing a good job. 

Tyrell didn’t actually give a shit.

So excuse his surprise when he saw Carlos do exactly what he didn’t do ever.

Take a fucking break.

In all honesty, who was he to deny him it? Breaks were required by law, he thought, checking on the muffins he had just put in the oven. He glanced out of the kitchen, watching as Jill explained something she was showing Carlos. 

Tyrell shuddered. It was weird.

After that, breaks were taken by Carlos. He didn’t man the register, or clean up the stations; he took a break with a freaking apple fritter and whoever the hell his hot date was. He even went out of his way to grab snacks for her too, often claiming them as his own, before sliding them over to Jill when he got to her. 

Whatever was going on, Tyrell was going to find out. He had to. It wasn’t in his nature to be passive.

He cornered Carlos after work one day, stopping the man from getting into his car when they walked to the nearby parking lot. 

“Seriously Carlos, who is she?” he asked, frowning. And then Carlos smiled -- the same one he used on all the ladies that had them swooning, but Tyrell couldn’t stand to look at -- shaking his head as he gently nudged Tyrell out of the way.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” he replied, ducking into his car.

And true to his words, Tyrell  _ did _ find out.

Exactly one month after the fiasco began, Tyrell was closing up shop, putting some baked goods in a paper bag for each of them to take home, when Jill walked up to the counter. Of course, Tyrell had to serve her, but technically his shift ended fifteen minutes ago. In fact, Jill shouldn’t even be in here.

But before he could pry, Carlos walked past him. Gone was the ugly green apron, replaced by his black messenger bag. Tyrell glared, using a towel to point in their direction.

“No, no, no,” he hissed, stopping the duo from moving. “You two aren’t leaving until you tell me what the fuck is going on.”

Carlos looked down at Jill and she shrugged.

“This is my girlfriend, Tyrell,” he said plainly as if it was the simplest thing in the world.

Tyrell froze, unsure if he wanted to yell or panic. He settled with neither, taking a deep breath as he regained his composure. “So you’re telling me Jill’s your girlfriend and she comes to the shop simply because you're here?” he asked, pushing up his glasses.

“I’m a freelance journalist. I work at the office nearby,” she supplied, and Tyrell rolled his eyes.

“Of course you are,” he said dryly, and Carlos chuckled. His frown returned. “Where are you two going now?”

Jill looked at him as if he were a bug on the bottom of her shoe. “I’m going on a date with my boyfriend. Can’t you realize that?”

And then Tyrell’s anger festered as he shook his head wildly. “No, you’re not! That asshole left all the dishes in the sink after he said he’ll do it for me when I covered for his ass last week.”

Two pairs of eyes fell on Carlos as his own widened comically, a sheepish grin pulling at his lips as he rubbed his neck. “Ah, sorry about that, Ty,” he said. “Jill, I kinda got to do this or he’ll never let me live it down,” he told her, and she sighed, sliding off her own bag and jacket as she rested them on a table.

“I might as well help,” she said cooly, walking past the counter and through the kitchen door she’s seen Tyrell and Carlos use so many times. The two men shared a look before Carlos grinned, following after her and leaving Tyrell to fend for himself.

And even now as he heard his best friend’s laughter accompanied by the lilt of the girl’s with him, Tyrell realized that maybe this new normal would be okay. For sure he was a dick in his own right, and torturing Carlos was a way to ease his own malevolence, but maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t mind Carlos being happy for now.

Tyrell sighed, grabbing another paper bag and redistributing the baked goods he set aside for himself and Carlos.

If anything, Jill was probably going to be part of their unofficial squad now, he mused, laughing to himself as a high pitched yelp escaped the kitchen, followed by a stream of curses and the unmistakable shattering of a plate.

He left the situation to them anyway, resuming the rigorous cleaning the coffee grinder was put under.

Besides: Tyrell Patrick  _ wasn’t _ stupid.

**FIN**

**Author's Note:**

> So I fell in love with the RE3 Remake, despite not caring for Resident Evil before. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I loved writing it!
> 
> Much love! Stay safe <3


End file.
